The New Year
by howzitthen
Summary: It's the new year, 8 months have passed, and things are a little different in the lives of the current (and former) occupants of 4D.
1. Chapter 1

Jess stood behind the right bathroom sink and looked at herself in the mirror. She gave her bangs a few brushes with her fingers before deciding they were adequate for the day before her. Biting her lip, she sighed as she looked down at the mostly white, blue lined dress she had decided on as she readied for school minutes earlier, not stopping to consider the predicament she'd be putting herself in. Shaking her head, she picked up the toothpaste from the shelf below the mirror with her left hand as she grabbed her toothbrush from its cup with her right. She slowly applied paste to brush, careful not to get any on her dress. She glanced to her left while she started moving the brush across her teeth, a little less energetically than normal.

"Jess, you almost ready?" Coach called from the hall before entering the bathroom. "We're going to be late. First school day, 2015. Let's not get off on the wrong foot."

"Ahm-hnow-Rah-ah," she tried, not removing the brush from her mouth.

Coach stepped to the sink to her left and gave himself a look. A quick smoothing of the eyebrows and a pop of the collar of his green tracksuit was all he needed to bring a smile on his own face.

"Two seconds for perfection," he said, winking at himself in the mirror.

Jess rolled her eyes beside him and leaned over her sink to cautiously spit the blue-white foam from her mouth. After accomplishing her goal without incident, she lifted he head and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"All set," she said cheerfully. She slipped out of the bathroom as Coach followed close behind.

"So, do you think you're going to make it to the game tonight?" Coach asked as they made their way down the hall. "We're playing St. Rita's at seven o'clock. Bunch of slow, uncoordinated white boys. So… we actually might have a shot for a change."

"Sounds fun," Jess said absentmindedly. "I can't tonight, though. Do you think we should just drive separately?"

"What, and no carpool? I know how strongly you feel about limiting your carbon footprint, Jess."

"Just doing my part so save the world," she shrugged. "It's kind of my superpower. That and I can knit one very small mitten in the time it takes to sing 'Frere Jacques' in moderately passible French."

"Not a superpower."

"Agree to disagree," Jess shrugged.

Coach stepped into the living room and snatched his clipboard and whistle from the bookshelf behind the sectional. Jess stepped over towards the door, picked up her grey satchel that was sitting under the nearby table, and draped it over her shoulder.

"Hey Schmidt, we're out," Coach yelled down the hall as he joined Jess by the door.

"Hang on, I'll come with," came Schmidt's voice.

Jess flipped the door open, stepped out into the hallway, and started moving towards the elevator. She looked up and nonchalantly stole a glance at the door to 4C. Coach soon joined her just outside the elevator door and gave the button a few quick jabs. Schmidt stepped through the loft door wearing a grey suit with a navy blue tie. He looked up at Jess and Coach.

"You guys got everything? Gonna lock up."

"All set," Jess replied.

"Hey Schmidt, any interest in checking out a highly competitive, white knuckle, 12 year old boys basketball game tonight?"

"What, is it for a charity or something?"

"Nope, Jess has plans tonight so she can't give me a ride home. Parking at the school is kind of bitch, so I was hoping to catch a ride."

"I don't know, Coach. It's kind of a..."

"Drinks on me afterward?"

"… perfect night for a little b-ball. Say no more. I'm in."

"What's that smell?" Jess asked, crinkling her nose and looking at Schmidt as he approached.

"Oh that?" Schmidt smiled as the elevator pinged and the doors opened. "Pheromones. Yeah, it's called 'Tragen Schlamm". I read an article online. Apparently it's something bears secrete in the wild. It's proven to strike fear into the heart of any potential foes, inspiring submission."

"Ew."

"Sounds about right," Coach quipped.

"Yeah, I'm up for another promotion this week. Decision comes down Friday. This time, I'm totally going to kill it."

"Along with any small animals or elderly people that enter your wake," Jess cracked.

"Dayum," Coach laughed, putting his hand up for Jess to high five.

"Boom!" she said slapping his hand hard as they both continued laughing.

"Careful, you two," Schmidt warned, smirking and gesturing to 4C before stepping into the elevator. "It's pretty early. You don't want to wake the neighbors."

"No, I guess we wouldn't want that," Jess mumbled as she followed Coach and Schmidt through the elevator doors, which closed behind her moments later.

* * *

Behind the door of 4C, Nick was actually awake, peering into his new apartment's stainless steel refrigerator. He was up a little earlier than normal, to be sure, but he had been tasked with tidying up the bar after the employee New Year's party the night before. Since New Year's was the busiest night of the year, they just closed up the Sunday following and threw their own bash. Two parties, one cleanup. Made perfect sense. And this year, for a change, Nick wasn't even hung over. He had taken it easy the night before, choosing instead to face the task of tidying the dirty bar bright eyed and bushy tailed. Or, at the very least, cognizant and pain free.

He wiped his hands on the front of his blue tee shirt, pulled a carton of orange juice from the fridge, and grabbed a glass from the handmade shelf over the counter beside it. He set both on the grey, wooden kitchen island that served not only as more counter space, but as something of a room divider. Nick poured the juice into the glass, looked across the room, and frowned. The girls that had lived in 4C until two months previous had left abruptly, with no warning to their neighbors in 4D. Not that the two apartments had forged any sort of meaningful friendship or anything, but they got on well enough, and Schmidt in particular was disappointed to see them go. Though it was never confirmed, the chief theory for their hasty disappearance had to do with Remy. It seemed the girls had made the error of calling attention to a leaky window shortly before they left. Remy had spent a few afternoons working on the window, likely spreading his unique charm. Mere days later, the girls were gone.

Nick turned, slipped the orange juice back in the fridge, and removed a gallon of milk. He collected a bowl and a box of Coco Puffs from the counter, and returned to the island. Nick took stock of the furniture before him and shook his head. The couch, rug and coffee table were fine. A little too fancy for his taste, but not bad. He wasn't a fan, however, of the oddly shaped and brightly colored chairs that were scattered about the room. Most were seemingly suited better for eliciting confessions from suspected terrorists than for kicking back and watching a ballgame, but it was all part of the deal. It was mostly about timing, really. Remy had apparently chased the girls away mere days after Schmidt received notice that the strip mall his ill-advised store front was leased from got sold back to the city. The city, in turn, wanted to plow the entire strip to make room for a new office building. It worked out perfectly. Schmidt got out of his lease, even earning a modest buyout, and Nick got out of 4D. He also got all of Schmidt's old furniture when Jess and Coach voted to keep the loft décor as it was, refusing to incorporate any of Schmidt's more adventurous design options.

After filling the bowl, Nick returned the milk to the fridge and grabbed a spoon from a drawer in the counter. He scooped up the bowl and the orange juice and carefully turned the corner towards the bedroom just down the short hallway off the main room. He nimbly sidestepped the large, black bicycle propped up outside the bedroom door, careful not to knock over the black and blue helmet hung over the handle bar. He raised the glass to the bedroom door, and gave it two light taps before balancing the bowl in the crook of his arm and turning the knob with his free hand.

"Hey buddy," he called into the darkened room. "Got a yummy breakfast for you."

Face down on his mattress, mostly buried under his green comforter, Winston stirred, confused. He struggled to his back, staying under the comforter, and began to blink the sleep out of his eyes. As he looked up at a smiling Nick, he turned his head to see his alarm clock sitting on his bedside table.

"What the hell, Nick?" he scowled. "It's 7:45!"

"I know. And breakfast is the most import-"

"I went to bed two hours ago, man! What are you doing?" Winston fumed.

"I was just… two hours ago?"

"Yeah."

"Well, why the hell were you up so late? That doesn't make a lot of sense. Don't you have work today?"

"It would make sense if you ever _listened_," Winston said, covering his eyes with his elbow. "I told you, I'm working second shift down on Venice Beach all week. I'm trying to get on a schedule so I don't fall asleep behind the wheel."

"You mean… the wheel… of your bike?"

"Do not start with me, Nick."

"Hey, I'm proud of you, bud. You know that. Being a bike cop is nothing to shrug at. It's just, when I hear 'behind the wheel', I think..."

"Get out."

"But I-"

"Now."

"But I made you Coco Puffs."

"Nick!"

"Alright, alright," Nick said, backing through the doorway. He disappeared into the hall before quickly peeking his head back in the room. "Say, does that mean you'll be gone tonight, or-"

"Bike cops carry guns, too, Nick. I _will_ shoot you."

"Right on."

Nick gently closed the door behind him and relocated to the living area. He set the glass of juice on the brown coffee table and took a seat on the long, grey couch. He settled in and shoved a heaping spoonful of cereal into his mouth. He still had a few hours before he needed to be at the bar. After briefly considering going back to bed for a while, he thought better of it. He had the place to himself tonight, and there were things he wanted to accomplish before going to work.

* * *

Cece stood behind the bar and slipped a white apron over the front of her yellow tank top. She held her cellphone to her right ear, and looked thoughtfully into the empty bar. Shifting her weight form her right leg to her left, she nodded and listened.

"Look, I hear you, Jess. All I'm saying is, it's been eight months. Eight months and you've been on, what, two dates? Two dates with two guys, and neither ended with so much as a peck on the cheek."

Cece folded her arms as Jess protested. Not having any of it, Cece took charge.

"Look, Andy is nice. He's cute. He's harmless. Just… go out to dinner with him. Listen, you've paid your dues. You and Nick both. There's nothing wrong with moving forward. It's been more than long enough. Besides, it…"

Cece pressed the phone to her shoulder with her ear as she listened and tied the apron behind her back. She then reached under the bar and retrieved a white towel.

"Well, you can't worry about Nick. Let him worry about himself. He's a big boy. Sort of. And who knows? Maybe he's getting out there, too. He's allowed, right? Look, I'm telling Andy you're in. One dinner, a favor to me. You're doing it. End of story."

With that, Cece hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and looked around the bar. It wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. There were still some wet rings left on the bar, and a few stray empties scattered about, but nothing nearly as bad as she had feared. She had agreed to meet Nick early to help clean up in return for him covering for her while she stepped out to her nursing class that afternoon. Nick was good about helping her get around her new class schedule, but they were both wary of Mike. He wasn't all that bad, really. He wouldn't ever have put Cece's job in danger or anything. But she planned to do all she could to avoid the man's pointed, caustic, and, admittedly, sometimes accurate comments.

She pulled a spray bottle of blue liquid from under the bar, and started liberally spraying the length of the wood surface. As she took the towel to the bar, she ignored the pang of guilt that felt over the conversation with Jess. It _had_ been long enough, and things _had_ seemingly stabilized between Nick and Jess. Things weren't like they were before. They likely never would be. But they weren't in a bad place. Ever since Nick and Winston had moved down the hall, things had somehow seemed better between the two. The awkwardness of seeing each other day, perhaps, somewhat alleviated.

Cece finished wiping down the bar, carried the bottle of cleaning liquid around the end and across the room, and started spraying down a booth over at the far wall. As she slipped into the booth to start wiping, she heard the door open at the front of the bar. Looking up, she smiled as Nick stepped into the room, wearing a pair of loose-fitting jeans and an unsurprising green flannel.

"Hey, you beat me," he said with a grin.

"Yeah, well you're not exactly a reputed early bird."

"Fair point," he said, approaching the booth. He looked around the bar and nodded. "This isn't nearly as trashed as I thought it would be."

"Right? This is going to take all of 45 minutes, an hour tops."

"Yeah, we could probably even open a bit early today."

"Or…"

"Or?" Nick said, oblivious.

"Well, I was thinking… you could…" Cece said, softening her normally intimidating features in an effort to manipulate. "Quiz me again?"

"Ugh, quiz you?" Nick whined. "Again?"

"Hey, I got a big test today, and I'm really stressed about it."

"I know, but…"

"Last time you helped me study, we got a 92%. Number three in the class."

"Yeah, but… wait. Really?"

"Yep. And this time, with your help, I think we could be number one."

"You keep saying 'we'."

"Well, I couldn't have done it without your help."

"I know, but…"

"Hey. I'll make it worth your while?"

"How are you going to do that? You already owe me for covering your shift today."

"Well," Cece said, shyly looking away. "There is this girl in my class. Amy. I think the two of you-"

"Not interested," Nick said, his mood shifting completely, all playfulness draining from his demeanor.

"Oh, come on, Nick? Don't you think-"

"Not interested," he said, turning and walking towards the bar. He swung by a couple tables, grabbing the occasional empty Heisler bottle, and carried them behind the bar where he deposited them in the trash. Cece approached him from the front of the bar.

"Look, Nick. She's tall, blond. Dark eyes, from the Midwest. Got a real bitter, snarky sense of humor."

"Oh, and that makes her perfect for Nick?"

"No, I'm just saying-"

"I know what you're saying, Cece," Nick said, looking her square in the eye. "And I know you mean well, but I'll say it again. Not interested."

"Nick, I just-"

"Tell you what," he interrupted. "How bout in exchange for me helping you study, you just drop it, okay? How's that sound?"

Cece narrowed her eyes just enough to let Nick know she didn't approve. She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Suit yourself."

"Thank you," Nick said, his posture immediately relaxing. He took a deep breath before looking back at Cece with a smile. "You really think we could be number one, eh?"

"Oh, no doubt," Cece replied with a smirk.

"Well, all right then," Nick said, slapping the bar. "Let's get this joint cleaned up."

* * *

Nick stepped into the elevator and leaned back against its back panel as the doors closed before him. He pulled his cellphone from his pocket to check the time. It was ten to eight. He had hoped to have been home earlier, but Cece's test had run longer than anticipated, and that left she and him on the receiving end of a long-winded scolding/mocking from the mouth of Mike. It was probably worth it, though, Nick reasoned. Cece had told him she felt good about the test, and that was the most important thing. About a month back, Buster, Cece's pretty man-child, had moved back to Australia. Nick didn't know much behind the situation, and he didn't care to. He just knew it wasn't easy for Cece, and throwing herself into school had really helped her find a positive focus. And, as a surprising bonus, it actually made Nick feel really good to help his friend.

He yawned and stretched his hands over his head as the doors opened. He gave himself a few slaps to the fact in an effort to wake himself up a bit. Stepping from the elevator, he instinctively turned right towards 4D. He fished his keys out of his pocket and took two steps in that direction before stopping, realizing his error. He shook his head and did a 180 back towards apartment 4C. As he passed the elevator again, he heard the door to 4D swing open behind him.

"Ah, Nicholas," Schmidt said, stepping towards him and shutting the door behind him. "Just in time."

"What's up, Schmitty," Nick said, turning to Schmidt.

"About to go watch some youth sports. Yeah, Coach has a game and Jess had plans, so she couldn't wait around to give him a ride after school. We're going out for drinks after. You in? I mean, if you're willing to condescend to having drinks with your old pal Schmidt."

"Are you kidding me?" Nick said, slumping his shoulders.

"Why, whatever do you mean?"

"Not this again."

"I'm sorry, is this inconvenient for you?" Schmidt asked, folding his arms. "You don't enjoy talking about how… about how… you dumped me."

"Oh, come on," Nick said, putting his hands on his hips.

"No, it's cool, it's cool. I opened my room to you so you and Jess didn't have to awkwardly cohabitate, and you just tossed me aside like so much used dental floss."

"Weird analogy."

"I'm serious, man. I got those sweet bunk beds, and after, what, two days, you insist we de-bunk them."

"It was creepy, Schmidt."

"What was creepy?"

"Waking up in the middle of the night only to look up and find you staring down at me. _That's_ what was creepy."

"That happened, like, two times."

"Yeah, in two nights!"

"I look because I care, Nicholas."

"Still weird."

"Well, I will not apologize for loving you."

"Getting weirder."

"Fine, whatever. We debunked the beds, and you still bailed on me, man. It was going to be just like college. Schmidt and Nick vs. the world. Compadres. Brothers."

"Look, Schmidt, we're not in college anymore," Nick said, walking up to Schmidt. "Besides," he said, putting his hand on Schmidt's shoulder. "College sucked. We were losers. I never want to go back there."

"But…."

"You know I'm right," Nick said softly, patting Schmidt's shoulder before removing his hand altogether.

"Fine," he replied, nodding his begrudged agreement. "But you didn't have to leave the loft completely."

"Yeah, Schmidt. I did. I really did," Nick said, giving him a look of resolve to emphasis the point. "You know this. Besides, I just live down the hall. We can hang out whenever you want."

"Well then, come to the game with me. We'll watch some terrible athletics and then go grab some drinks with Coach."

"Ah, Schmidt. I've kind of had a day."

"Right," Schmidt sulked, pushing the button for the elevator. "Likely story."

"How 'bout this," Nick said thoughtfully. "How about this Friday? You, me, and Coach. Winston if he's off work. We all go out. Anywhere you want."

"Anywhere?"

"I know I'm going to regret this," Nick said, shutting his eyes. "But yeah, you call it."

"I wonder," Schmidt said, looking excited as the elevator doors opened next to him. "It might not be too late to get a rezzie at the new apothecary bar down the way. They make all their own liqueurs. And they shake each cocktail for exactly seven minutes and seventeen seconds, and every drink is served in a one of a kind metal mug, forged by local metalworkers."

"Sounds like my kind of place," Nick said, wincing.

"You're going to love it!" Schmidt said, jumping in the elevator. "I can't wait to tell Coach. You work on Winston. This Friday, we ride!"

"You got it pal," Nick called, giving Schmidt a thumbs up as the elevator doors closed on his smiling face. "Can't wait."

Nick trudged towards 4C, glided the key in the door, and stepped into the apartment. He flipped on the lights and took a quick look around. Moving slowly, he reached into the fridge and pulled out a cold Heisler, flipping the cap into the waste can under the counter. He took a long swig of the beer before setting it down on the island behind him. Turning back to the fridge, he started removing some vegetables and greens, setting them on the counter. He had intended to try something new tonight, but his later than expected shift at the bar left him thinking he only had time for a salad. He'd load it up with tomatoes and avocado to help fill it out, he thought. He closed the fridge just as a soft knock came at the door. He instinctively froze, his breath catching in his chest a moment. Realizing how stupid his reaction was, he shook it off, placed the avocado on the counter and walked over to the door. Stupid or no, he allowed himself a deep breath before swinging the door open wide. There stood Jess, head to toe in plain, navy blue pajamas, her hair piled up in a messy bun, clutching what seemed to be a bag of uncooked popcorn in her left hand.

"Sorry, I know I'm a little early," Jess smiled from behind her glasses. "I was just getting a little bored over there. Hope that's okay?" she asked, pulling at the tails of her pajama top.

"Absolutely," Nick offered. "Come in."

He stepped aside as Jess shuffled in, barely getting her black, fuzzy slippers off the floor. Nick smiled as she passed, letting a genuine laugh escape before he closed the door to 4C behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

"No way!" Jess said, hints of laughter ringing through her voice.

"Listen, it was Bob's idea," Nick offered, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

Off to the side of the kitchen they sat, face to face, separated by the small, wooden high top that Schmidt had once envisioned as his intimate, morning-after-exceptional-coitus breakfast nook. On the table between them remained a pair of mostly cleared salad plates, alongside several mostly empty Heisler bottles. Nick had just been telling Jess about the ups and downs of the new late night happy hour menu he was pushing to install at Clyde's. Most of the items on the menu were par for the bar course: nachos, wings, cheese sticks and the like. But Big Bob had suggested something a little more ambitious. Something Nick found he didn't quite have the culinary expertise to pull off.

"Wait," Jess said, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Putting Tuna Tartare on the late night menu was Bob's idea?"

"Yes, and I for one thought it was fantastic."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean…"

"Uncooked fish. Prepared by you. Served to unwitting customers. _That_ seemed like a good idea?"

"I don't know," Nick smiled, taking a swig from his beer. "I guess I got caught up in the moment."

"Ya think? You would've killed someone."

"Well, let the record show that we ultimately thought better of it."

"Thank God."

"And after tonight, it's just as well. I'm thinking we should totally just add some guacamole to the menu instead. You know, thanks to that little trick you showed me with the knife and the pit."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, it's a real time saver. I used to struggle like crazy to get that damned thing out. Used to lose half the avocado meat in the process."

"Avocado…_ meat_?" Jess questioned, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah, Avocado meat" Nick replied matter of factly before shrugging. "It's the only way I can eat vegetables, Jess. I have to trick my brain into thinking I'm in some way eating meat."

"I could see that. In any case, glad I could be of help," Jess said, slapping the table.

"It's good. I've been meaning to step up my avocado intake anyway, you know. I hear they're a good source of 'healthy fats'."

"Oh, don't let Schmidt hear you say that. He says the only kind of 'good' fat is 'gone' fat."

"Sounds about right."

"Nick, he is losing it lately," Jess said, flaring her eyes for affect. "I mean, even more than normal."

"Oh, do tell," Nick said, leaning in closer.

"Yesterday I came home and caught him ironing his apron. Ironing it, Nick. The thing's entire purpose is to get dirty, and yet he irons it. Meticulously."

"So? Sounds like Schmidt."

"Okay," Jess said straightening up. "Try this: he actually installed sanitary toilet seat cover dispensers in the bathroom."

"Okay."

"One in each stall."

"And?"

"You don't think that's weird?"

"Oh, it's totally weird. But let me ask you this, Jess."

"What?"

"Do you use them?"

Jess pressed her lips together to suppress the smile that was forcing its way across her lips.

"You do, don't you?" Nick laughed, waving his finger in a circular motion at her.

"Well, why not?" Jess confessed. "I mean, I've been vastly outnumbered by you guys over the last few years. That's a lot of dude butt crossing those seats."

"Fair point. I guess."

"Okay, how about this, then. He set up another three, count them, one, two, three shower caddies in the shower. That's makes _five_ now. One for everyday shampoos, one for everyday conditioners, one for every day body washes, and one for what he has titled "The VIP Ignition Sequence". That's all the stuff he gets specially flown in from Norway. He only uses when he thinks he's going to get laid."

"Okay, I guess that's a bit excessive, but…"

"Do you want to know what the 5th caddy is for?"

"I'm not sure..."

"Mirrors. A half a dozen tiny mirrors of various shapes. Nick, why does he need so many different, tiny mirrors?"

"Best not to think about it, really."

"Five, Nick," Jess said, holding up five fingers. "Five shower caddies. You know what that makes our shower? It makes it a veritable shower caddy shack!"

Nick scrunched up his face as he flinched at Jess' joke. Jess frowned and shut her eyes hard as she recoiled herself.

"I'm… I'm sorry," she apologized, closing her eyes and raising her hand. "I just, I was feeling it, and I… I knew it was wrong, but I just… I just went for it, and…"

"Hey, don't beat yourself up. We've all been there."

"Still, you know, I've been working at it, I've been doing better. Sometimes I just gotta know when to lay off."

Nick smiled at Jess' only mostly affected embarrassment. He hoped she never stopped with the lame jokes. They were part of her. Perhaps insignificant in the greater scheme, but part of her nonetheless. And that in itself was important. As he pondered a moment longer, he caught himself watching her too closely, noting a stray hair flying away from behind the ear of her glasses. He chased the instinct to reach over and tuck it neatly behind her ear, allowing his eyes to linger only an instant more. He bit his lip, shook his head, and smirked.

"Well," he said, nodding. "I'll see your idiot and raise you my idiot."

"I'm sorry, there's no way Winston is as bad as Schmidt."

"I'm not so sure about that, Jess."

"Try me."

"You got it. Sometimes at night, when he thinks I'm asleep, I hear him in his room practicing his Miranda rights."'

"Is that some kind of euphemism?"

"No," Nick said, shaking his head. "And also, ew."

"Then I don't see the big deal," Jess shrugged. "It's part of his job."

"Yeah, but it's_ how_ he practices. He makes his voice all deep and sexy-like," Nick said, dropping his voice. "He likes to get all Barry White with it. 'You have the right to remain silent. You dig? You have the right to an attorney. Mm-Hmmm."

"He does not!" Jess said, her eyes brightening.

"He totally does. Oh, not only that, but sometimes he recites lines from old cop movies."

"Cop movies?"

"Yeah. Like Dirty Harry. 'Go ahead, make my day." And, "Do ya feel lucky, punk?"

"Oh no."

"Yeah, but that's not the best part," Nick said, flailing his hands. "He likes to go really, really old school with it. Like, I'm talking 1800s, John Wayne, Gary Cooper, old West, cowboy stuff."

"Like what?"

"I don't know the lines as well, but it's a lot of 'Pardner this', 'Pardner that', 'whoa thar little doggie', and 'you'd better mosey on outta here if ya know what's good fer ya' type of stuff."

"This is just…," Jess managed, her smile taking over her entire face. "….Gold. Pure Gold."

"But Jess," Nick said standing up. "I haven't even told you the best part."

Jess beamed as she sat quietly, her eyes following Nick as he stepped to the side of the table.

"This one time, I was home, but he didn't know it," Nick continued. "And he was on his bike over there in the hallway. He had his helmet on, his glasses on, and he was crouched real low, like he was riding it. I didn't think much of it at first. But then after a minute, I start hearing this noise. 'Phew-phew, phew-phew'. And it's Winston. He's over on the bike going 'phew-phew-phew' with his gun. 'Phew-phew-phew." Nick repeated, making a gun with his hand and gesturing. "But, you know, just… with his actual gun."

"I don't believe you," Jess said, resting her chin on the palm of her hand as she listened on.

"Still not the best part," Nick insisted.

"Nick, what…"

"When he puts his gun away… you know… to concentrate on the apparent high speed chase he's in the middle of… he actually…" Nick said, stopping to compose himself. "He actually makes little vroom-vroom noises with his mouth."

They were silent for a moment. Jess bit her lip and looked off to the side, confused. After a bit, she opened her mouth to speak, only to stop before she started. After another moment she tried again.

"But Winston's… a… bike cop."

"Yup."

"A… uh… _bicycle_ cop."

"Yup."

"There's no 'vroom vroom' on a bicycle."

"I know," Nick said, folding his arms. "Just don't tell him that."

Jess lifted her hand to her nose and sniffed. She took a deep breath and smiled at Nick, who smiled right back. It had been a great night. All of these weekly get-togethers, which they had recently dubbed as 'play dates', had been great nights. Some of her best in the last few months. As she reflected on that fact, her internal clock pinged off, alerting her that they had been staring and smiling at each other for too long. Again.

"So," she said, clearing her throat and gesturing to the living room. "Should we start the movie?"

"Yeah," Nick said, swallowing hard, snapping out of his own trance. "Let's… uh… let's get it going."

Nick started to move into the living room as Jess stood up and followed. She reached into her pajama pocket and pulled out her phone. Tracing the bunny ears with her finger, she swiped her thumb across the screen and stopped.

"Oh," she said, her face falling.

"What's up?" Nick asked as he plucked the remote from the living room coffee table.

"Nick," she answered, holding her phone towards him. "It's quarter after midnight."

He stood still a moment, silent. He tapped the remote against the palm of his hand as he thought to himself. Where had the time gone? One minute he was talking to Schmidt, the next minute he and Jess were prepping a salad, and the next they were here. Four hours, gone that quickly. Too quickly. He didn't want the night to end, but he knew it was exactly what had to happen. After a moment, he nodded, and forced a small chuckle.

"Looks like we did it again," he smiled, flipping the remote softly onto the couch.

"Looks like," Jess answered softly.

"I guess Hannah and all those sisters will have to wait another week."

"Yeah," Jess said, looking down for a moment before glancing over at the door. She took a step towards it as she turned hopefully back to Nick. "Same time, same place?"

"Let me think," he said, moving to meet her at the door. She slid beside him just as he reached for the knob and clicked the door open softly. She slipped out into the hall, and he followed behind. They instinctively ambled down the hall, side by side, as he nervously fumbled with his fingers and thought to himself about the coming week. "Yeah, I think that should work. Cece owes me, like, a million shifts anyway. So I'd say we're good to go."

"Great," Jess said as the neared the door to 4D. "Next Monday it is."

They both stood nervously in front of the door to their old apartment, afraid to look at each other. When Nick had moved out, he had done so for good reasons. They couldn't possibly live together anymore. Too much had happened. But neither of them had any interest in being completely removed from the other's life, either. That was simply out of the question. So they came up with their arrangement. Their 'play dates' would occur once a week, schedules permitting, and they only had three prerequisites. 1.) They would always meet one on one. In the safety of the group, they worried they'd simply slide away from each other and lean too heavily on their friends. This was about _their_ friendship, and _they_ would be the ones to mend it. 2.) Their encounters would never occur within the all too familiar and intimate surroundings of apartment 4D. Too much had happened behind that door. And 3.) Every 'play date' would end with a mutual update of their romantic lives. They agreed it was best that they be upfront with each other when it came to moving on. Best to hear it from the source than to find out through some other channel.

Still, each and every time this part of the evening came to pass, the mood changed. The suspense of what the other might say weighed heavily on both of them. The information shared in previous occasions had held very little of consequence. Yet they each knew the longer they did it, the more time that passed, the more likely it was that someone was actually going to have to break some news the other wasn't likely to want to hear. The holidays had recently encroached upon their get-togethers, so the suspense was even greater this night. It had been three weeks since they had done what they were about to do, and that meant three times the potential for something to have finally happened. For the situation to have changed.

"Welp," Jess said, nervously fingering the door of 4D. "Do… uh… do you want to start us off?"

"What happened to ladies first?" Nick deflected.

"Always so chivalrous," Jess mumbled as she finally turned to face him. She locked her eyes into his and shrugged. "Tim Peters bought a Christmas gift. A ring. In a box with a nice, tidy bow on it."

Nick folded his arms as he looked away. "A ring, eh?"

"Yep," Jess answered, shrugging. "A mood ring to be precise. I'm guessing it cost him all of $4. But $4 to a twelve year old is nothing to shrug at."

"$4 to this thirty-three year old is nothing to shrug at, either," Nick deadpanned.

"So… yeah. That's about all I've got," she said, breaking her eyes away from Nick and returning them to the door to 4D. "How… how about you."

"I got nothing," Nick answered, quickly and bluntly. "I mean, this one customer at the bar got a little handsy with me one night. She was… a little drunk."

"Oh," Jess said with a knowing tilt of the head.

""Yeah. She even got her fingers on the Sharons," he said, looking down.

"That so?" Jess clipped, not biting.

"Sure is. But I think she was just trying to get her keys back."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, I had taken her keys. That, and she kept saying 'give me my keys back' as she grabbed at me, so…"

"Reasonable deduction."

"I think so."

They stood a moment longer, looking at each other, relieved. So far, they had done this little dance at the end of every night, and every time, nothing of any real concern was shared. And therefore, every time, they shared in this moment of absolute relief.

"Well, I should…" Jess said, nodding her head at the door.

"Yeah, no. Go, get some sleep."

"You too," she said opening the door with her left hand.

"Next week," Nick said, lifting his hand up and reaching it in Jess' direction.

"Next week," Jess answered with a smile before lightly pressing her right hand to his. She blinked, ducked into the loft, and quickly shut the door behind her as Nick turned and made his way back towards 4C.

Once inside, Jess closed her eyes a moment and steadied her breathing. Though it was only Monday, she knew she'd just ended the best part of her week. And while she was grateful to have those moments at all, it was a bit of downer knowing she had to wait seven days to enjoy herself that much again. But she eased her mind with the same thought she always eased her mind with at this point of the night came. She reminded herself that at least she _did_ have this to look forward to next week. And the week after, and the week after. She also reminded herself that this was something that could've been lost completely had she and Nick self-destructed in a more damaging manner. They had lost a lot, but they had stood to lose so very much more had things gone differently. And she couldn't even bring herself to wonder what she would do if they ever truly passed the point of no return in what still seemed to be a very fluid situation.

She took a deep breath and started shuffling to the bathroom to ready for bed. She suddenly remembered Cece and the guy she was trying to set Jess up with. Furrowing her brow a moment, she questioned if she should have told Nick. Shaking her head to herself, she decided she was fine. She had honestly just forgotten about it. It was that unimportant to her. But the thought nagged her as she brushed her teeth and washed her face. She gave herself a look in the mirror as she finished up and made a decision: she would call Cece in the morning and insist she call off the date. Cece would understand. It just wasn't time yet. Jess gave herself an affirmative little nod before she flicked off the bathroom light and headed for bed.


	3. Chapter 3

_He flipped sleepily to his right side, and was instantly struck by her scent. Once upon a time, he may have recognized that scent as some specific fruit or flower. But now, it was just her. His eyes opened, and as they adjusted to the still dark room, he found himself staring straight into a sea of dark, wavy hair. He chuckled to himself as he wondered, as he often did, how she managed to deal with all that hair on a daily basis. He'd never ask, of course. He loved her hair. Why put thoughts in her head?_

_Though he thought he's bottled off his laugh fairly well, it must've been forceful enough to disturb her sleep. He watched as her pale shoulder made its presence known from beneath the mass of hair, shrugging the dark locks aside as she turned to her back. He waited patiently as her eyes squeezed together hard, her chest rising from beneath the white sheet as she took in a great yawn. As her lips closed back together, her eyelashes struggled open, leaving her blue eyes to gaze into the dark room straight above her. Almost immediately those eyes started to search for him, sending a surge of what he could only identify as pride flowing through his entire body._

"_Hey you," she said upon finding him, her lips curling into a small smile as she let her eyelids fall back together._

"_Hey yourself," he answered._

"_I didn't think you'd be up."_

"_I could say the same to you. After last night…"_

"_No kidding," she laughed as she turned to face him, slipping her shoulder back under the sheet to his disappointment. "It was… some night."_

"_Some of my finest work," he answered, unable to keep the smile from his face._

"_Shall we…" she started, reaching her hand over and resting it on his bare chest. "… pick up where we left off?"_

_He froze, somewhat stunned. What she seemed to be proposing wasn't totally unheard of, but it was always something of a grand surprise._

""_Well, you know I'm never going to say no to that."_

"_I had a feeling," she whispered as she gracefully lifted herself to her elbow. "Why don't you just close your eyes? Relax."_

_He obeyed, although the absolute last thing he wanted to do was close his eyes. He felt her weight shift on the bed as the sheet moved above him. He tried his best to even out his breathing. Regardless of what was about to happen, he wanted to enjoy it as long as he could. The seconds moved like hours, the suspense quickly reaching a point of near agony. After a few more moments of complete silence and stillness in the bed, he began to wonder if she had played a trick on him, perhaps disappearing from the room entirely just to leave him dangling. Just as he was about to open his eyes to peek, he felt her soft movements again, this time near the foot of the bed. He slowly and instinctively moved his legs, freeing his feet from beneath the sheet. He felt her weight shift again before stopping. He felt his heart rate start to increase, the suspense again getting the better of him. _

_He didn't know what she had in mind, but it didn't really matter. Her caress to absolutely any part of his body was something to look forward to. But her first touch came in a most surprising place, and in a most surprising fashion. As he held his breath, he felt something run across his big toe. And then again. And again. It was with short, brisk movements that something a little wet, and a little rough started crossing his big toe over and over again. Before he had time to ask her what she was doing, the color behind his eyelids took on an unexpected hue of dark red, and his ears filled with the sound of the loudest, wailing siren he had ever heard in his entire life._

Nick bolted upright in his bed, alarmed to discover his own lungs emitting a high, screeching, womanly scream. A scream that every bit matched the whirring siren that was going off in his room. His eyes searched stupidly and frantically for the culprit, oscillating all over the entire room before discovering the source of his discontent. Hovering over him was the grinning face of Winston, his eyes so maniacally wide that they exposed approximately three times the area of white that they normally would. Still confused, Nick's eyes followed Winston's down to the red, flashing light that he held in his hand.

"Ha-Haaaa!" Winston cackled.

"Wu-wha…."

"Yeah! Taste it, sucka!"

"Whaa… how…"

"Yeah, how do you like it, fool!" Winston shouted over the sound of the siren. "Wake me up in the middle of MY sleep on a work day. I'll learn ya. I'll learn ya good."

Nick lay in silence, clutching his chest, making certain his heart didn't burst through his chest and wind up in the bed beside him.

"Win…. Winston!" Nick screamed.

"Doesn't feel so good does it?" Winston said, finally switching the siren off, mercifully calming the din inside of Nick's room.

"What the…. What….what time is it?" Nick pleaded.

"4:21 am. What, is that too early for you? You don't want breakfast in bed?"

"I don't… what… how…"

Winston stood up and strutted towards the door, allowing Nick to realize for the first time that Winston was still in uniform. He turned as he reached Nick's dresser and faced him.

"And let that be a lesson to you. Pay attention when I speak. And don't be waking me up while I'm working on a temporarily adjusted sleep schedule. Ya hear?"

"Loud and painfully clear!" Nick said back, finally feeling his heart rate dip below 4,000.

"Good. Glad we understand each other," Winston said before grabbing something off of Nick's dresser. He turned back to Nick and tossed an empty white bowl and a small, brown cardboard box towards Nick on the bed.

"There's your damn Cocoa Puffs," Winston said as exited the room, slamming the door so hard behind him that it actually shut, bounced out of the jamb, and opened itself again.

Nick sat on the bed, stunned. As he tried to compose himself, he reached his arm out before him to examine his still trembling hand. Just as he found himself approaching something close to homeostasis, he was again distressed by a grey blur near the foot of the bed. Nick instinctively brought his knees to his chest, yanking the sheets up in the process. In doing so, he revealed a very unimpressed looking Furguson, who just stared back at him blankly.

Nick shut his eyes hard and sat perfectly still for a long while. Only when he felt fully confident that the surprises were over for the evening did he dare open them again. And when he did, he found Furguson sitting in the exact same spot as he was before. He looked back at Nick, still unimpressed, and blinked.

"Well," Nick muttered to the cat. "I gotta say. Winston's gotten a hell of a lot better with his pranks."

Furguson blinked again before standing up. He gave his coat a quick shake before deciding he was done with this particular scene. He hopped down off the bed, and gave his front legs a good stretch before meandering through Nick's room to the still slightly opened door. He used his face to coax the door open wide enough to fit his round form through, and disappeared into the hallway.

Once he was alone, Nick collapsed back into his bed. He closed his eyes as his still louder than normal heart pounded out a soothing rhythm. One that had him sound asleep within minutes. He fell asleep quickly and emptily, holding no memory of the dream he was so rudely awakened from. He did not know what he was missing, yet he did not sleep well.


	4. Chapter 4

Jess slung her grey bag over her left shoulder and stepped through the glass doors of the school into the nearly empty parking lot. It had been a long day, capping off a long week. The first days back after the holiday break were always a little tedious for students and teachers alike, and she was looking forward to a nice, relaxing weekend. Retrieving her keys from the bag, she made her way towards her car, the slight nip in the air taking hold. She inched the sleeves of her green sweater down over her wrists as she noticed Coach leaning back against the passenger side of the car.

"Hey Coach, sorry I'm late," she called. "Jason McGuire was smoking in the stairwell, so I had to have an impromptu meeting with his parents again."

"That kid just don't wanna learn," Coach said, turning to face Jess. "Did you have to suspend him this time?"

"No. Foster compromised. Instead of suspension, Jason has to stay after school an hour each day next week wiping down the gym mats," she answered, tossing her keys over the car towards Coach.

"Ew," Coach said, snatching the keys out of the air before plugging them into the passenger door and swinging it open. "I'd rather serve the suspension."

"So would Jason," Jess smiled as Coach slipped into the car. Her reached over and lifted the lock on the driver's side door. Jess opened her own door, put her bag in the back, and settled into the driver's seat. "But Foster always has his eyes on the bottom line. The school gets a little free manual labor, and Jason learns a valuable lesson. Everyone is happy."

"Everyone except Jason," Coach said, handing the keys over to Jess as they shut their doors in unison.

"Except Jason," Jess said. She slid the key in the ignition and started the car. The engine roared to life, causing Coach to cover his ears as they adjusted to the noise. Jess winced and pulled her seatbelt across her chest, shaking her head in apology.

"I don't know why I can't get used to that," Coach said. "What kind of engine is this? V6? Hemi? 747?"

"It's not that bad," Jess answered as she put the car in gear and headed towards the exit.

"I gotta ask, Jess. How did you end up with a car like this anyway? I looks like something some East L.A. Latino gang member would drive, not a school teacher. And it sounds like it should be taking off from LAX."

Jess smiled as she recalled how she came to be the owner of the car. Hector, as she had affectionately named it. She thought of the simple, exciting days of Mexico. And, of course, she thought of why trading for the car became a necessity in the first place. Before she completely collapsed into the moment, she shook herself free.

"Say, what's the deal with tonight again? You want me to drop you off at the bar?"

"Yeah," Coach said, not seeming to notice his unanswered question. "Boys night out. Schmidt's call."

"That sounds…"

"Ill-advised? I know. But what are you going to do? He's been a little blue since Nick and Winston moved out, so we figured we'd throw the guy a bone. I have literally no idea what he's got in mind."

"Well, my thoughts will be with you," Jess said with a chuckle as she slowed to stop at a red light.

"Yeah, thanks. But prayers are what we'll really need," Coach laughed.

Jess smiled and looked out the window up at the surprisingly cloudless sky. While Hector had grown on her, she still missed the Volvo. And she missed all the memories she'd created in that brief period of time when it was her home. She hadn't thought about that when she made the trade. She hadn't thought about anything, really. She had acted swiftly. It had been a true no brainer.

"Jess," Coach said.

"Hmm?"

"Light's green."

"Oh, sorry. Just… daydreaming… I guess" Jess said with a sad smile. Depressing the accelerator, she put her eyes back on the road and steered the car towards Clyde's.

* * *

Nick sat at the mostly empty bar, waiting for Cece's answer. Standing behind the bar before him, she bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling.

"Do you need me to ask the question again?" Nick asked.

"Maybe just one more time," she answered, nervously adjusting the strap of her navy tank top.

"Okay," Nick said. He pushed up the sleeves of his red flannel and looked down at the cell phone on the bar before him. "Which diagnosis is most appropriate for a patient with chronic venous insufficiency? Activity intolerance, disturbed body image, impaired skin integrity, or deficient fluid volume"

"Which…. chronic venous insufficiency. Chronic venous insufficiency," Cece repeated to herself.

Nick watched on as she mulled it over, noticing an approaching Mike from the corner of his eye. Nick held up a finger to Mike, who stopped in his tracks, folded his arms and, watched on, unimpressed.

"I got it." Cece said, her eyes brightening as her light bulb went off inside.

"Lay it on me."

"Impaired skin integrity?"

"Is that a question or an answer?"

"Answer. 100%. Impaired skin integrity."

Nick looked down at the phone and grimaced for a moment. Cece closed her eyes and awaited the verdict. Nick frowned a moment longer before breaking into a smile.

"Nailed it," he said, lifting his hand for a high five.

"You lie!" Cece said slapping Nick's hand.

"Nope," Nick said, holding up the phone for Cece to inspect. "That's a perfect 25 for 25. I'd say you're ready for this test."

"You know, I think you're right," she beamed." I think this week I'm…."

She was interrupted by a slow, clapping sound. Mike approached again, continuing with the claps, until he joined Cece behind the bar.

"25 for 25, huh?" he started. "I'm impressed. Truly. Now, if you could only go 25 for 25 on getting your drink orders right."

"Here we go," Cece said, rolling her eyes.

"I mean, if you two spent half as much time tending bar as you do studying for your class, our Yelp reviews would positively be off the charts."

"Yelp reviews?" Nick muttered. "That's not a real thing, right?"

"I don't hear the customers complaining," Cece said.

"Well, you don't hear the customers complaining because most of our customers are men. And they can't see past… you know, because of all…," Mike continued, gesturing towards Cece's torso. "… of that stuff you've got going on there."

"It doesn't hurt," Cece smiled.

"True, but it doesn't mean you know what you're doing. And it really scuffs my Jimmy Choo's"

"Now I know that's not a real thing," Nick chirped.

"What can ya do?" Cece shrugged, turning to Mike. "The customers like me, and you have to admit I've gotten a lot better."

"Well, that bar was set pretty low. And now you don't even bring that saucy little Aussie around anymore to help offset your shortcomings as a mixologist."

"Are you serious?"

"He was just delightful. He was like having an expensive piece of artwork on the wall. A nice change of pace from the dregs that usually haunt this place."

"Thanks man," Nick said, giving Mike a wave.

"I'm truly sorry my relationship didn't work out, Mike." Cece shot back derisively. "I'm so, so sorry you lost your eye candy."

Mike folded his arms and huffed. He pursed his lips together and rolled his eyes dramatically. Cece stared him down until he finally caved.

"When you put it like that," he said sheepishly. "You put too much ice in your Old Fashioneds, and they could stand a dash more bitters. But… you are getting better. I guess."

"Well," Cece said, looking a very surprised Nick in the eye. "Thank you, Mike. I've really been trying."

"And… it shows," Mike said. He flipped a bar towel over his shoulder, forced a smile, and turned to leave. "But you've still got a long way to go, sister. A long way to go."

Nick and Cece watched as Mike moped off before turning back to each other, each wearing a huge smile.

"Wow, you kind of put him in his place," Nick said.

"I know, I'd almost feel kind of bad. You know, if it didn't…"

"Feel so good?"

"Exactly."

"And hey, 25 of 25. That's great! You're going to crush this test tomorrow."

"Hopefully. I mean, we only went through the practice questions. There will obviously be a ton more on the actual test.

"You'll be fine."

"You know what?" Cece said with a smile. "I think you're right."

"And I think that calls for a toast. We got any leftover champagne back there?"

"Let's see," Cece said, looking under the bar before producing a half empty bottle. "A-ha. It's warm, flat, and a week old."

"Just how I like it."

"Then we're all set. I'll go grab some glasses."

Cece turned and searched the bar for some champagne flutes, looking up and down until finally finding a bag of plastic martini glasses stuck next to an industrial sized jar of olives. She held the bag up towards Nick and shrugged.

"Works for me," Nick said, reaching for the bottle of champagne. As he unscrewed the cap, he heard the door open briskly as a window of bright sun spilled into the bar. Turning to investigate, he got an eyeful of Schmidt approaching. He tugged at the lapels of his light blue suit before smoothing out the front of his white and blue checkered button up. He had entered wearing a wide smile. A smile that quickly faded as he neared the bar.

"Ah, Nicholas," Schmidt started as he took a seat beside his former roommate. "A flannel. I see you've dressed up for the occasion. No surprise there."

"What's wrong with my shirt," Nick asked.

"Oh, we don't have near enough minutes left in the day to go over all that is wrong with that shirt. But we can start with the fact that you wear it all the time."

Cece joined the guys at the bar and took the bottle of champagne from Nick. She rolled her eyes and started to poor.

"I don't wear it all the time," Nick protested. "I keep it in a healthy rotation with the rest of my..."

"Wait, let me guess," Schmidt interrupted. "With the rest of your flannels? That's another topic entirely. Who needs so many different flannels? Grunge died a long time ago, my friend, and your wardrobe should've been put down right alongside it."

"Well what about you, ya hypocrite?"

"Whatever to you mean?"

"You where that blue and white checky thing you're wearing at least twice a week."

"Well, Nick, far be it for me to expect you to know the subtle differences between a Shepard check, a Gingham print, or a Tattersall. Butt sufficed it to say, you are incorrect. Anyone with a fashion IQ of a mothball could see that. In all actuality, I haven't worn the same shirt in over 4 months. And that's a fact."

"You do wear a lot of shirts that look like that," Cece chimed in.

"Cecilia!" Schmidt exclaimed, clutching his hand to his chest in horror. "I expected better of you, a model, of all people. What has spending your days in this place with Nick done to you?"

"Well, for one," Cece said, sliding a glass towards Nick. "It's gotten me to the point where I'm about to be number one in my class. Cheers, Nick. And thank you for all the help."

"Don't mention it," Nick said, raising a glass. The cheers quickly and slugged back the champagne. "Besides, you're doing all the hard work."

"Yeah, but still. I don't think I'd be ready to topple Andy Derryberry as the head of the class if it weren't for you."

"The top student in your class is named Andy Derryberry?" Nick laughed. "That's unfortunate."

"Yeah, does he loan you pens straight from his pocket protector?" Schmidt cracked.

"You get have to dodge the stray spray from his inhaler," Nick piled on.

"Not exactly," Cece said, not wanting to get too in depth on the subject at hand. "But either way, he's going down. So, what is it you idiots got lined up for tonight, anyway?"

"Oh, here we go," Nick said, burying his face in his hands.

"Well the first stop is "Myst" in the valley. It's a new aroma bar I've been meaning to try."

"Aroma bar?" Cece asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah, you don't actually drink anything. The find a way to vaporize _everything_. Cocktails to appetizers."

"Can't wait!" Nick said, letting his head fall to the bar.

"Next stop is a place called Drip. All the bartenders are actual registered phlebotomists. They actually set you up with an IV and send the alcohol straight to you blood stream."

"Now that's interesting," Nick said, lifting his head.

"And completely unnecessary," Cece deadpanned. "What's the occasion again?"

"Just a guys night out," Schmidt answered, slapping Nick on the back. "And my own personal goal for the night is to get this sad cowboy here back in the saddle."

"If you call me a sad cowboy again, I'll punch your right in the neck."

"Settle down, Nicholas. It's for you own good. Eight months with nary a whiff of female action? It can't be good for your soul. Let alone your…"

"Enough," Nick said, holding up a hand.

"Fight me as you like, Nick. But I promise you this: tonight, I'm going to get you laid."

"Ooh, sounds exciting," came a quiet voice from behind them. The all turned to the left to see that they had silently been joined by Jess and Coach. Coach raised his hand to his head in embarrassment while Jess looked anxiously over at Nick. She tried to keep a steady voice as she forced a supportive smile across her lips. "Hey guys."

"Jess, I didn't…" Schmidt started.

"Yeah, Jess, don't listen to this clown," Nick said standing. "It's not… we're not…"

"No, no, no," Jess said. "Nick, it's good. It's a good thing." She looked up at him and willed herself to seem secure, but she couldn't help but feel she instinctively inflected her voice to make her last statement seem more like a question.

"Yeah, but…"

"Besides, it's guys night!" Jess interrupted, raising both fists enthusiastically. "I'm rooting for my bros. All my bros. Go get it, son."

The gang collectively shuddered and took to coughing and averting each other's eyes. Jess hung her head, immediately regretting her fake enthusiasm. After a few more moments of awkward silence, she shook her head and broke the silence.

"I'm sorry you guys. That was weird. I made it weird. I'm working on it, but just… just… forget I said anything."

"You got it."

"Done."

"Forget what?"

"And on that note," Schmidt said, getting to his feet. "Told Winston we'd meet at Myst in 30, so we'd better shove off."

"What's Myst?" Jess asked.

"You don't want to know," Nick said standing up. "And I don't think I could explain it to you even if you did."

"Sounds exciting," Jess added, turning to watch the guys leave.

"Do you think you could explain it to me?" Coach asked. "Let me know what I getting myself into?"

"I'll fill you in," Schmidt said, throwing his arm around Coach's shoulders. "You are in for a treat."

Nick lagged behind as Coach and Schmidt made their way to the door. He stopped, rubbed the back of his neck, and spun back to Jess.

"I mean it, though," he said softly. "I know what we talked about, but I don't think…. I just..."

"You don't owe me an explanation."

"I'm not… I…" he stammered. "The places we're going? We're not going to meet my kind of girl. That's all."

"Well, if you say so," Jess said, hoping the relief in her voice and body language wasn't too evident. "Just… try to have fun tonight. Okay?"

"I'll see what I can do. Goodnight, Jess." Nick said as he gave her a soft tap to her upper arm.

"See ya," she offered as she watched him trot after the other guys. She watched until the door closed behind them. After taking a deep breath, she turned around and took a seat at the bar in front of Cece.

"You okay, babe?" Cece asked, clearing the bar of the champagne and plastic glasses.

"A-Okay."

"Likely story."

"No, I mean it. It's still weird, but… it's getting better. He deserves to have fun tonight. Don't you think?"

"Oh yes, absolutely. Nick totally deserves to have fun tonight. But… he's not the only one."

"What's up?" Jess said, tilting her head.

"Okay, before you get mad…"

"Never a good start."

"Jess, hear me out…"

"Not getting better."

"Well, you know how I was going to set you up with my classmate Andy?"

"Yeah."

"And you know how he wanted to take you to dinner tonight?"

"Yeah."

"And you know how you asked me to cancel?"

"Mm-hmm."

"And you know how I told you I would?"

"Cece…"

"Well… I made an executive decision."

"I don't recall making you executive of anything!"

"He's on his way."

"Where?"

"Here."

"Here? When?"

"Nowish."

"Nowish?"

"Nowish."

"How nowish?"

"Well," Cece started. Her eyes quickly flashed to the bar's entrance. Jess reluctantly followed her gaze to the door where a tall, handsome young man with dark, chin length hair stepped into the bar. He tucked his sunglasses into the collar his blue, long-sleeved tee as he searched the bar, clearly looking for somebody.

"Now-nowish," Cece smiled.

"I'm going to murder you, and not in a nice way," Jess muttered.

"Well, it'll have to wait," Cece said as she raised her hand and waved toward the door. "Hey Andy. Over here."

Andy smiled as he made his way over to the bar. Jess turned her body towards Cece and smiled with her mouth while her eyes fired daggers. Cece frowned at Jess before turning her attention to Andy.

"Hey there! Have any trouble finding the place?"

"No, not at all. Never been in this neighborhood before, but it was simple enough. So, here I am."

"Tha you are. Andy, I'd like to introduce you to my friend Jess. Jess, this is Andy."

"Nice to meet you Andy," Jess said, turning to shake his hand.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine," Andy said, taking her hand softly but firmly. "Cece has told me a lot about you."

"That so?"

"Actually, no not really," he said, nervously releasing her hand. "Just that you were a teacher, that you were really pretty, and you liked sushi."

"Well, I am a teacher, and I do love good sushi."

"And, at the risk of sounding totally lame," Andy jumped in, "you are really, really pretty."

"No," Jess blushed. "Silly. Silly words. Silliness is what it is, is what it is. Silly is what you are."

Andy took half a second and shot Cece a questioning look. Cece just nodded back at him calmly.

"I'm silly, huh? Guess it sounds like Cece has told you a little bit about me, after all."

"Hardly anything, actually," Jess said, shooting Cece another hard look.

"Well, how about you let me tell you myself over dinner," Andy smiled. "I know this great little sushi place not too far from here."

"Well…" Jess began.

"She'd love to," Cece spat. "You haven't eaten yet, have you Jess?"

"Well, no. In fact, I just got off of work, and I'm actually pretty tire…"

"Perfect!" Cece said, clapping her hands. "Jess would love to go."

"She would?" Jess asked.

"Of course she would," Cece said. She looked Jess straight in the eye. She knowingly smiled and softened her gaze. "She thinks dinner with a nice, charming man sounds fun. Doesn't it sound fun Jess?"

Jess sighed heavily and shook her head. Cece had a point. Jess had told Nick to go out and have fun. And while she didn't feel ready to meet anybody, Andy seemed like a nice enough guy, and dinner with someone different wasn't exactly a serious endeavor. Besides… he'd already come all the way out here.

"Why not?" she relented, slapping the table. "Let's do it."

"Fantastic," Andy said, smiling. "You're not going to be sorry."

* * *

Ninety minutes later,Jess sat alone at the two top and furiously jabbed at her bunny eared iPhone. Glancing around the dimly lit room, she started to get the feeling that the other patrons were staring. She brought the phone to her ear as she tried to ignore their eyes. As the phone rang on the other end, she politely smiled at the waitress who was approaching the table.

"Cece, call me back," she hissed into the phone. "Call me back, I need you to come get me so I can kill you."

"Miss?" the young, blond waitress dressed head to toe in black asked politely.

"Hi there, I just need…"

"Miss, if you can't afford to pay for the meal, I'm afraid we're going to have to escort you to the back. We have a room where you will be comfortable until the authorities arrive."

"Authorities?" Jess said, her face reddening by the second. "No, no. That won't be necessary. I can pay, I just… I need to call a friend. See, the guy I was with just sort of… well… he turned out not to be who I thought he was. So, he left, but he drove me here. And I left my purse in my car because it was kind of a blind date thing, and I didn't know it was happening, and…"

"I'm sorry, Miss. I know we've all had dates that didn't go as planned. But I've been told I need to ask you to come with me for the time being."

Jess looked around the room and was finally forced to acknowledge all the eyes that were now staring at her. Gawking. Judging. She took a deep breath and willed herself not to cry of embarrassment. She pursed her lips together as the moisture in her eyes began to gather. She nodded to the waitress and blinked away the tears.

"It's okay," she whispered, removing the napkin from her lap. "I understand. Let's get this over with."

"That won't be necessary," came a low, gruff, and familiar voice.

Before Jess had time to identify the voice, he was standing over her, cutting her off from the view of the waitress. He calmly reached into the jacket of his grey suit and produced his wallet, and from the wallet he plucked a black credit card. He handed the card to the waitress who briefly inspected the card, gave a nod, and backed away. He slowly turned to face Jess, giving her a knowing smile.

"I gotta say. You sure know how to pick 'em," he said.

"You don't say?"

"You look great, by the way."

"Thanks, Russell. You're looking pretty good yourself."


End file.
